Robert's Rebellion
by mafiaman2442
Summary: Taking place before events of A Game Of Thrones this story covers the event's of Robert's Rebellion, which led up to the events of A Song of Ice and Fire.


Prologue

The dragon skulls looked down upon the throne room, the pits of their eyes reflecting the dance of the torches upon the walls. The skulls were a magnificent but fearful sight. Torch light was giving the dragonsbone a yellow hue. How could anything so big and monstrous ever have lived in this world? The skulls at the back of the room were smaller and could be mistaken for another animal, but the skulls at the foot of the throne were larger than an elephants; their jaws big enough to swallow sheep whole.

Rickard Stark shifted his gaze to the living dragon perched upon the iron throne. Aerys Targaryen looked like a walking pile of bones with just a thin, stretched grey skin over them. His eyes were sunk deep in his shriveled head and his silver hair hung in knotted clumps all the way to his waist. The nails growing from his hands were yellow, cracked, and starting to curl in on themselves from the length. Scabs and recovering cuts covered his hands and arms. Comparing him to the two kingsguard in shining golden armor would be like comparing black and white. He contested with the dragon skulls for the most fearful sight in the throne room.

Rickard had rode for King's Landing as soon as he heard that Brandon had been arrested despite reports that Aerys had descended into utter madness. The title 'the Mad King' was obviously not far off. Aerys had summoned him to answer for Brandon's 'crimes'.

He had arrived at Kings Landing earlier that day. The sight of the city's walls had brought a queer uneasy feeling to Rickard. The city easily rivaled Winterfell, its huge walls towering over everything, but it had none of the warm feelings that Winterfell brought him. They had ridden through a giant gate escorted by gold cloaks, the city watch. They had ridden past a thriving trading area with smallfolk calling out their stores of fish, bread, potatoes, and anything and everything you can imagine. People had jumped to get out of the way as gold cloaks set the pace through the city. They had passed taverns, brimming with sailors drinking before heading to the thriving port, brothels, blacksmiths, and stables. All were brimming with more people than Rickard had ever seen. They filled every crack and crevice, every sidestreet and alley.

They had come upon the Red Keep with its portcullis and gold cloaks aiming their crossbows down from atop the walls. They had ridden through the castle at a brisk pace despite Rickard's request to rest and get some meat and mead in his men's bellies. His sword had been taken and his men left behind before he was allowed to enter the throne room. And here he stood in front of the iron throne, with no sword and no men behind him as he had planned.

"Rickard Stark your son stands accused for conspiring against the life of the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen" announced Rossart, the current Hand of the King. "As his father you have been summoned to answer for his crimes." Supposedly Rossart was just as mad as Aerys and was also a member of the Alchemists Guild, an ancient society that consisted of pyromancers. The sight of him wearing the mark of the Hand was a sickening sight. The Alchemists Guild has all but perished and this man bears a bad omen. Only Aerys could have chosen such an unfit man for Hand.

"Is it a crime now to demand justice for a crime?" Rickard stared Aerys directly in the eye "Rhaegar kidnapped my daughter, Lyanna, and we mean to have justice." Aerys looked down at Rickard with cold hating eyes, a dragon's eyes should never be this cold but Rickard trudged on. "Brandon was in his right to demand justice against Rhaegar."

"Rhaegar is the heir to the iron throne and you have no right to demand anything of the Targaryen's" Rossart seemed almost bored by the conversation, and Aerys remained quiet continuing to just stare at Rickard.

"Being a Targaryen doesn't grant you special privilege from justice. Lyanna could be being raped or killed right now and you would do nothing?" Rickard was growing angrier at this farce.

"Rhaegar is within-" began Rossart, but Aerys silenced him with a wave of his hand. The Mad King rose to his feet, almost losing his footing until Jaime Lannister reached out and steadied him with a golden arm.

"Get your paws off me" Aerys spat at him. Jaime retracted his arm and returned to his stiff guard pose, not betraying any emotion. "Being the King's brother does grant you special privilege, _Stark_" He spat the name out like venom. "I talk and the realm listens to what I command. Rhaegar can have that Stark bitch. I may have been merciful and let you have her back before your son started speaking treason outside the gate." Aerys stood face to face with Rickard. "Now I will see you all killed." Rickard couldn't hold in his anger any longer.

"So it is true. You are madder than a rabid dog." If they hadn't taken his sword Rickard might have slashed Aerys in two right there on the spot, but he looked over at the two golden knights with hands on their swords. Aerys turned even greyer than he already was.

"DO NOT SPEAK TO YOUR KING OF MADNESS" bellowed Aerys. The court jumped from the sudden outburst. Rickard wiped spittle from his face and glared at Aerys. "It is you who are mad if you think I will give Rhaegar to a Stark for _justice_." If Rickard had any hope of saving Lyanna or Brandon he would have to play the beggar Aerys wanted.

"Please Your Grace, I beg you, all I ask is to have Lyanna back. Think of your son. Think if Viserys was taken. I ask as a father to a father." Rickard knew he had said something wrong from the look in Aerys' deep purple eyes. They grew fiery with his anger.

"You dare threaten my child?" Aerys turned away from Rickard and started back to the iron throne. "Threats everywhere. My family isn't even safe in my own city." The Mad King sank into his throne as he sucked on a recent cut on his pinky. It was oft said that the throne only cut those who were unworthy to sit upon it. The throne was a marvel, made up of a hundred swords melted together, it stood sinister and beautiful at the same time.

"You mistake me sire. I never meant to threaten Viserys." Rickard had an acid taste in his mouth using royal titles on someone so unworthy of them. Aerys may have once shown promise but his time in Duskendale had changed him. And like a snowball, ever since then he had become worse and worse; a snowball of madness.

"Don't think I didn't catch your meaning Stark. You can't threaten your king to his own face without paying the price." Aerys stroked his long dirty beard with his yellowed hands as if thinking of what punishment could possibly suit such treason. Aerys was fond of cutting out tongues, or maybe he would just throw him in a dark cell for a few days. "I think death will suffice."

Never had a room quieted so quickly. The court grew deathly silent in just a second. A smile grew upon Aerys' face, it was an ugly unsightly thing. Words had always come easily to Rickard Stark, but they evaded him now. He must have been quite a sight in that moment, with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. No one moved for what seemed a lifetime.

"Your Grace…I am the Lord of Winterfell…this would mean war!" Rickard stumbled through his broken and tangled thoughts. "I came in defense of my son you have no right to condemn me nor him; we have committed no crime." The people crowded in the hall started to murmur to themselves and shuffle restlessly from one foot to the other.

"You have committed high treason as everyone has clearly witnessed" thee looks on the court's faces may have suggested otherwise but Aerys had eyes only for Rickard. "Someone bring me his head." He started picking at the scabs on his fingers, as another silence grew over the hall. Rickard had gathered his wits again.

"If I am guilty of some crime I must have a trial." Aerys could not deny him a trial under the eyes of his seven and more importantly under the eyes of all the people in the hall.

"A trial? Yes a trial. The sword shall be your trial and the executioner who brings me your head will be the judge." Aerys was mad no one denied that but from the looks on everyone's faces this was a new level for the Mad King. Killing Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North would bring hellfire and war upon the seven kingdoms.

"If you will not grant me a fair trial with fair judges then I demand trial by combat. That should be within whatever right I still have left." Rickard could not bring himself to call Aerys 'Your Grace' but he would not call him mad either, that would only quicken his head beneath a falling sword. The ugly gross smile Aerys wore grew even longer and uglier as some wicked idea flickered through his head. His eyes lit up with excitement.

"Ah, yes a trial by combat. I think that is within your right. I assume you will fight for yourself?" Aerys gave no time for an answer. "Of course you will, but who will be my champion? Hmm." He started stroking his beard as if in contemplation feigning innocence.

"I will need my sword" Rickard started adjusting and testing his armor to make sure it was sitting properly. He eyed up the two kingsguard. Jaime Lannister was the better of the two. Young, but he was a ferocious fighter with a longsword. Rickard might be able to best him by wearing him out, making him dance around in that heavy plate golden armor versus the light mail Rickard was wearing.

"No need for that Stark, I have decided upon my champion."

"How will we fight if not with swords? Are we going to play a game of cyvasse, or perhaps we can see who bakes the better tart." Rickard put as much hate into his voice as possible.

"No, no. My champion will be fire. To prove your innocence all you have to do is put out the flames. I'm sure the gods will judge you justly." The silence fell upon the hall once again. Aerys had a fondness for wildfire but this was folly.

"Stop this mummers farce Aerys, choose a proper champion fate shall be decided by steel against steel."

"Fire is the champion of the Taragaryen's so it only makes sense that it is what you should fight." Rickard's heart dropped like a stone in the Trident.

"A man can not fight fire!"

"But you will" Aerys turned to Rossart "Suspend him above the ground and fetch his son here." Aerys was giddy as a young maid on her wedding night. Rossart and a few gold cloaks moved forward and grabbed Rickard by the arms. Rickard struggled to shake them off but there were 4 of them against the one of him.

"Aerys! Stop this! You will bring war on your head, Ned will have vengeance for my murder!" They bound his hands in front of him and strung a rope from the ceiling.

"Ah yes the second Stark boy. He dare not raise a hand against the king, but just in case I will send for his head." Rickard could not believe this was happening. They strung him a foot off the ground, his hands and legs bound with rope. This was no trail, this wasn't even an execution, just murder. Two gold cloaks dragged in Brandon through the double doors at the end of the hall. He wore just a few rags much too large for him. His heart dropped another foot.

"Aerys please. Restrain this folly to me and leave Brandon out of it. Send him back home or to the dungeons, please just don't hurt him." Aerys was whispering in Rossart's ear and paid no mind to his pleas. Rossart hurried from the hall.

"Father I'm sorry. I never expected this." Brandon's rags were filthy and soiled. He was also a bit thinner than Rickard had last seen him, the bones beneath his face starting to become apparent.

"No one could have son." They dragged him to the wall across from Rickard. Rossart hurried back into the hall carrying a couple of green jars under one arm and a contraption under the other. He gently laid the jars beneath Rickard and hurried off toward Brandon. The jars were glowing green and shimmering, the substance within them shrank and grew against the glass as if they contained light itself. When he looked back at Brandon, Rossart had attached some device around him. It was wooden and attached to it was a noose that curled up and around Brandon's neck.

"Please" begged Rickard to no one in particular "leave him be". The people in the court had grown very nervous, knowing what was coming, perhaps they had even seen this happen before. Rossart returned to the right side of Aerys and studied the court.

"May the father judge the champions to see whose cause is just and let him have victory." They bound Brandon's hands behind his back and laid a sword just a couple inches out of his reach. He started struggling against the rope at his hands and neck trying to reach the sword. Rossart grabbed a torch off the wall and tossed it beneath Rickard next to the jars.

Time seemed to slow down as Rickard watched through a dead man's eyes. The jars burst from the heat of the torch as it touched them. The pain was unlike anything Rickard had ever felt. He remembered the time he had fallen from his horse and broken his leg as lad. When he had taken a lance to the shoulder and had to lay in bed for a week. When a sword had bit into his thigh drawing a wave of blood. None compared to the pain of the burn of wildfire. It stung like a bite from a viper, burned as if molten metal touched his skin, and the pain grew worse with every second as the fire grew reaching all the way up to his knees now.

Brandon struggled fruitlessly against the rope restraining him. The sword in front of him acting like a deer in front of a wolf. The noose around his neck was constricting every time Brandon threw himself at it. His face was reddening, and someone's screams were filling the hall. They were horrible screeches of pain and agony and Rickard realized they were coming out of _him_. He seemed to be watching from outside his body. His body being blackened by the wildfire, his armor acting like an oven cooking him. Brandon struggling against the device his face turning a deep shade of purple now. And the people that filled the hall. Most were covering their ears with their eyes closed tight. The ones who looked on all had pity and sadness in their eyes.

This was not an event of house against house, people against people. His enemies and friends alike looked on with horror in their eyes. No one deserved this no matter who they were. Gold cloaks were barring the door so all were forced to stay, even the woman and a couple kids.

He turned his head away from them and toward Brandon again. His son would be his last sight and the meek thought gave him comfort, but when his eyes reached Brandon all that was there was a lifeless body. His body could not even fall to the floor because the noose was still around his neck holding his body up. His lifeless eyes stared at what was left at Rickard full of pain and regret, the eyes that had spent their final moments looking upon his father burning alive without being able to do anything about it. Rickard was crying. Or was that fluid from his melting eyes? It didn't matter anymore.

He turned what was left of his face on Aerys. Rickard's thoughts were broken now and his wits were leaving him with the screams. Aerys took up the sight hungrily, drinking in every detail as if it were a fine wine. With everyone covering their eyes or looking at Rickard no one noticed the stiff bulge of Aerys' manhood under his robes.


End file.
